


Can I? (Alternatively, OMG They're STILL Roommates)

by Kunfetti



Series: A song fic compilation [5]
Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Established Relationship, Explicit Sexual Content, M/M, Mistakes were made, but it somehow gets fucked up, disaster shiro, practice safe sex everyone, sorta - Freeform, thats important
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-10
Updated: 2018-09-10
Packaged: 2019-07-10 14:31:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,403
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15951290
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kunfetti/pseuds/Kunfetti
Summary: Shiro's fighting a losing battle with his desire for Matt.





	Can I? (Alternatively, OMG They're STILL Roommates)

**Author's Note:**

> This smut was brought to you by my good friend, [Silverine](https://silverineontherun.tumblr.com/). 
> 
> Sequel lovechild to [First Day of my Life (Alternatively, Oh My God, they were roommates)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/15066698)
> 
> Inspired by [ Can I](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=VKloK4-a8F0) by Alina Baraz

The sound of Matt’s laughter fills the small sushi house down the street from their apartment. He’s laughing at one of Shiro’s jokes and Shiro is filled with a warmth not only from the cheap dry saké he’s drinking, but because Matt is hanging off his shoulder, laughing into his chest. Every Friday since he moved in a year and a half ago, they alternate choosing a restaurant and have dinner. It’s a pastime Shiro looks forward to as soon as Friday ends and Saturday begins, because being around Matt is just that rewarding. 

 

When Matt answered the door on that fateful day, Shiro wasn’t sure what to expect. Opening the door in his boxers with a crusty trail of drool on his chin immediately had Shiro thinking of all the other weirdos whose apartment’s he toured. Except Matt was appealing in a way Shiro wasn’t expecting. He was still droopy from sleep, and his long hair was sticking out all over the place. The scar on his cheek was mysterious and Shiro enjoyed his quirky fidgeting. Watching the sunset that day, sitting next to him on the roof. It was something Shiro would never forget, and something he knew would change his life forever. 

 

Their friendship was nearly immediate. They just clicked, and the more Shiro got to know Matt, the more he wanted to unravel his secrets and find out what made Matthew Holt  _ Matthew Holt _ . And he tried, oh how he tried. 

 

It started when Shiro would design new components for Matt’s projects, looking for any excuse to get to know his new roommate. Morphing into actual friendship over games of Mario Party and marathons of their favorite Sci Fi shows (Shiro preferred anything space related and Matt liked to pretend he didn't enjoy Doctor Who as much as he did, claiming it was too ‘ _ mainstream’ _ ). 

 

Shiro isn’t sure when that same friendship evolved into butterflies in his stomach at just seeing Matt and warm feelings when he would fall asleep on his shoulder during movie nights. And he was selfish, because he didn’t want it to stop. 

 

He wanted so much more. To strip Matt down, bare boned, and learn everything there was to know about him. Show him that Shiro saw universes in his eyes, an endless expanse of possibility. He wanted to replace any pain he would ever feel with genuine happiness. Be the one that causes his smiles and  _ just be _ .

 

“Wait wait, so you’re telling me this Adam guy just let you off the hook after that? He must have been a saint.” Matt says, catching his breath. 

 

“Yeah, he was.” He replies, and although a his smile falls at the memory, it doesn’t  _ hurt _ anymore. 

 

Matt leans forward on the bar, leaning on his crossed arms, “Was?”

 

“He died.”

 

Matt’s face falls, “Oh, I’m sorry.”

 

“It was a long time ago.” He brushes off. Not wanting to weight Matt down with his past but also not wanting to see his frown, “What about you? Any past crazies buried in your closet?”

 

Matt looks away for a second, eyes landing on the chefs behind the counter. He snuffs and shakes his head as he tells Shiro of his own ex, “I dated a girl once that was into roleplay. She always insisted on wearing this mask that had no face.” Matt takes a sip of his beer, closing his eyes and licking his lips afterward, a small smile on his face, ‘Needless to say, that did  _ not _ last long.”

 

Shiro burst out laughing, “Dude are you serious? You’re a fucking freak.”

 

“Hey,” Matt admonishes, chuckling alongside Shiro, “It wasn’t all bad. A little too weird for even me though.”

 

Shiro throws his hands up, the alcohol making the edges of his mind fuzzy, “Hey, no judgements here.” Because if Matt asked  _ him _ to wear a mask, he’d do anything just to be in that position. 

 

Matt smiles at him, and Shiro can’t help but get lost in the way his amber eyes turn golden in the light humming above them. The surrounding sounds of the restaurant die away and it’s just him and Matt, knees touching as they sit on their stools. A moment in time that happens way too often for Shiro to admit that there isn’t something more just underneath their friendship, if he would only just dig a little bit deeper. 

 

He clears his throat and looks away, down at his last remaining sushi pieces and wishing he wasn’t such a coward. 

 

“We should get home,” Matt says, taking one last bite of his teriyaki and finishing with a mouthful, “I’ve got to be up early.” He waves the bartender down, pulling out his wallet and handing over his card. 

 

They leave with their hands in their pockets, the chill of winter starting to settle into the air and Shiro pretends to not notice how Matt scoots a little closer to him. The walk home is quiet and the buzz he was feeling from the alcohol is starting to wear off. The silence is comfortable and if Shiro wants to imagine they’re just a couple walking home from a date, that’s his business. 

 

He smells rain in the air as they reach their apartment and both rush in and up the stairs to get to the warmth of their home. Shiro unlocks the door as Matt blows into his hands, rubbing them anxiously together, “Holy crow, it’s cold.”

 

“Winter is coming.” Shiro says, throwing a smirk Matt’s way. 

 

“Ok, thank you Ned Stark.” He deadpans and Shiro laughs as he walks into their apartment. He forgoes turning on any lights, planning on flopping himself on the couch but misjudging the distance and landing on the edge. Sliding down onto the floor, his eyes follow Matt as he sits on the other end of their coffee table, sitting cross legged as he plays with a box of nuts and bolts he left there, next to his newest project. 

 

He wants so badly to reach over, to  _ touch _ . Matt thinks he’s fooling him by paying more attention to what’s in his hands, but Shiro hasn’t missed how his eyes keep flicking to him. Or maybe that buzz was stronger then he realized and he’s imagining it. 

 

“So, is there anyone you’ve got your eye on?” The alcohol asks. Shiro would have never been so bold.

 

Matt seems to be stunned into silence for a moment, before he looks away and starts to fit pieces together, “Yeah, but I don’t think he’s interested.” 

 

“He’d be stupid not to be.” 

 

Yep, he just said that. His brain hates his mouth for speaking. 

 

Matthew Holt, just when Shiro thinks he’s got him figured out, always throws his expectations out the window. What comes out of his mouth next hits Shiro so hard, he has to inhale a deep breath to keep himself grounded. 

 

“Well, guys like you don’t think about guys like me  _ like that _ .” He says, fingers fiddling with the wrench in his hands. 

 

That’s it, right? The moment he’s been longing for for over a year. The open invitation that Shiro can RSVP to with or without regret. 

 

He’s not one for missed opportunities. 

 

“Why don’t you come over here and find out what guys like me think.”

 

Holy shit, he can’t believe he said it. And it came out suave af. He should buy a bottle of that sakè. 

 

Matt visibly swallows as he places his tools on the table with methodical ease, and Shiro watches carefully as he moves on his knees. He  _ crawls _ over towards Shiro and his mouth goes dry. Matt is clearly not aware of the effect of him on all fours, creeping slowly with his eyes locked into Shiro’s. His heartbeat is pounding in his ears and Shiro can feel Matt’s breath tickle his face as Matt leans right up into his space, eyes flicking to his lips before shutting his eyes and closing the distance. 

 

Shiro is frozen at first, but melts into the pressure of Matt’s lips on his own. His hands finds their way to Matt’s neck, his thumb rubbing absent circles along his jawline. 

 

Matt tastes like cheap beer and his nose is still cold from being outside but all Shiro can focus on is how sweet Matt’s kiss is. He hums low in his throat when Matt grows bold and licks at Shiro’s bottom lip. He opens willingly and Matt must take it as a sign, moving to sit in Shiro’s lap, wrapping his long legs around Shiro’s waist. 

 

His tongue plays with Matt’s while Shiro’s fingers slide under his shirt, using one had to rub soothing patterns along his lower spine and the other splays out across his back to help hold Matt in place. 

 

The kiss is explosive, sending whatever hold he thought he had on God’s green earth to the moon. Matt moans into the kiss, relentless in his exploration of his mouth. It’s pent up desire and passion driving them now and Shiro takes everything Matt gives him. When Matt pulls away for air, Shiro doesn’t stop. He licks right down Matt’s neck, pulling more delicious sounds from him that Shiro thinks he could become addicted to. 

 

Matt’s shirt is hitched up and one of Shiro’s thumbs easily finds Matt’s perked nipple. Shiro feels Matt’s exhaled breath of pleasure on his face, and he tries to move his hips, wanting to find Matt’s. 

 

“I don’t—I don’t usually put out until the second date.” Matt jokes, breathing heavily between them. Shiro’s heart is beating like he just ran a mile and everything is tight and hot. He nods because he’s unable to form words, too high on Matt to even put together cohesive sentences. They slow down a moment, both gasping to catch their breath. Matt scratches his fingers on the back of Shiro’s head, and it’s so  _ simple _ , but it fills him with an emotion he doesn’t want to look too much into. At least, not when he’s so turned on. 

 

“Any chance of making an exception?” Shiro manages to stumble out, “For a friend?” He leans his head on Matt’s chest, hiding away because that statement most definitely didn’t come from his higher cognitive functions. 

 

Matt lifts Shiro’s head, looking at him with an intensity that sets him on a metaphorical fire. His eyes are dark and appraising, and Matt nods frantically like he was a fool to suggest otherwise. 

 

“Okay,” Shiro pants. They haven’t even done anything yet and he’s ready to burst, “Okay.” He says again, like he didn’t believe himself the first time. 

 

Matt starts to tug on his pants impatiently and when Shiro’s brain catches up to what’s happening, he helps Matt’s fumbling fingers and zips down the zipper. They work his pants off together and Matt grabs ahold of him through his underwear. It’s a blessing and a curse because Matt’s hand is  _ right there, squeezing _ yet the fabric is causing a friction that has Shiro keening and arching his back. 

 

Their position is awkward on the floor, and Shiro’s head falls back onto the couch cushion when Matt finds a rhythm, having pulled down the waistband of his boxers. Shiro loses himself to the way his hand feels around him, moving up and down like Matt has been doing this his whole life. His hands find purchase on Matt, holding onto his thighs with a grip that will probably leave bruises tomorrow. Matt has started to kiss his neck and licks in time with his hand and it’s been so  _ long _ since he’s been touched like this, he’s not sure he can hold out. 

 

“I—wait.” Shiro says and Matt slows, confusion blooming on his face, “Just, let’s go to my room.” He adds, so Matt doesn’t take what he said as a rejection. 

 

Matt untangles himself from Shiro, standing and he runs his hand through his hair, taking a deep breath. He looks down at Shiro and drinks him in. It must be a sight, to see him on the floor, with his dick out and pants bunched around his knees. Matt licks his lips before offering a hand to help Shiro up. He takes it, kicking his pants off but pulling his boxers back up to assert some semblance of dignity. 

 

Shiro gently pulls Matt closer with the hand in his own, until they’re sharing the same space, and nuzzles his nose into Matt’s neck. He smells like everything Shiro has imagined and nothing like he thought. There is a lingering scent of mint and he recognizes it as the shampoo Matt uses. He brushes away his hair, the strands soft against his fingers and Matt moves his head so Shiro can suck at his pulse point, licking and sucking as if he were a waterfall and Shiro is a thirsty man. 

 

Shiro must have died on their way home. That’s the only explanation for what’s happening. Never in a million years would he have thought he’d be in this exact position that he daydreamed about a hundred times over. The perfect position to let Matt know  _ exactly  _ what he’s been holding back since they’ve known each other. 

 

Matt’s free hand grips tight to Shiro’s arm, and it keeps Shiro from falling too deep into the delusion he’s currently experiencing. He never would believe he’d be holding Matt,  _ tasting him _ , his soft moans a chorus in his ears. He wants to commit him to memory, in case this  _ is _ a dream.

 

“Takashi…”

 

It sounds like Matt has pulled his name from the depths of the earth just to whisper it with reverence and that’s all it takes for Shiro to lift Matt up. He wraps his legs around Shiro, and they kiss each other like it’s the end of the world. 

 

Matt is lighter than he expected, and he carries him to his room, where he lays Matt down gently and crawls over him. All the while keeping as much of his lips on Matt’s skin as he can. His fingers slide under Matt’s shirt, his body warm and inviting, and Matt helps him pull it off and over his head. 

 

Shiro takes a moment to appreciate him, in the way that he can’t look at one place long enough because his desire to kiss each inch of him is too strong. Matt writhes under his hand, and when he takes a pert nipple into his mouth, Matt pulls on his hair. 

 

It’s enough that Shiro is already love drunk, yet a traitorous part of his mind tries to convince him that they are moving way too fast. Just minutes ago he was teasing Matt under a tipsy stupor, testing his limits, as well as his own, and now he’s too invested to stop himself. Plus, Matt has wiggled out of his pants and is bare for Shiro to admire and it doesn’t seem like Matt wants to stop either. 

 

It’s not like he’s thinking with his brain anyway when he takes Matt into his mouth. If the regret comes, he can deal with it in the morning. Right now, he’d rather focus on the way Matt moans his name in broken sobs of pleasure and just how far he can take him down this throat. 

 

“Shiro,” Matt pants, his hand fisting tightly in his hair and the other gripping the sheet over his head, “It’s too much.” He whines. 

 

Matt pulls a little harder on his hair, the pain going right to his core, and Shiro takes that as a sign to let go. Matt growls,  _ literally growls,  _ in frustration and Shiro pounces like a predator. He pulls his shirt off before kissing Matt and bites gently on his flushed bottom lip. 

 

Matt’s fingers are like electricity on his body and his skin erupts in goosebumps in their wake. They touch everywhere, down his shoulders, across his nipples, tracing the planes of his abdomen. All the while, their kiss remains sloppy and passionate. 

 

Outside, a flash of lightning illuminates his room and the following boom of thunder shakes both men out of their sex driven haze. Shiro’s heart feels like it’s going to beat out of his chest and his cock strains hard in his underwear. But he takes the small opportunity to commit Matt to memory. From his mused hair, to his blissed out eyes. To his kissed swollen lips and the small mark on his neck from his earlier ministrations. Lower, down his chest where his lithe frame hides hundreds of freckles under his clothes. To his dick, that beads at the tip and Shiro’s mouth waters. 

 

“Do you want to go all the way?” Matt asks in an unsure whisper. 

 

Yeah, he wants to. He’s already this far, he wants to undress Matt even further, find what he keeps hidden from everyone else. Accept whatever Matt wants to give, and take. 

 

And take. 

 

And take. 

 

“Would you like that?” He asks instead, ignoring his own selfish desire, wanting to make sure Matt is comfortable and willing. The rain starts to fall outside and Matt nods his head:  _ yes. _

 

Shiro nods, more in disbelief than in affirmation, as he slowly eases off Matt’s frame. He grabs what he needs from a bag under his bed, and kicks off the rest of his clothes. 

 

Matt has moved further up the bed, making himself more comfortable and when Shiro looks at him he loses the air in his lungs. Only in his dreams has Matt ever been in this position, looking at him with a heated expression and waiting pliantly for Shiro. He doesn’t realizes his hands are shaking until he opens the bottle of lube and it squirts out. 

 

Matt snorts at the sound and it makes Shiro laugh. It’s a much needed break to the intensity. Just enough to take a deep breath and refocus. After a moment, he meets Matt’s gaze, a sweet smile on his lips. He takes ahold of Shiro’s wrist gently. 

 

“I’m nervous too.” He says and just that statement makes Shiro feel a lot better. He kisses Matt into position, his fingers slowly moving down towards his entrance. Just before he touches, he finds Matt’s eye one last time, a silent request. Matt bites his lip and nods, spreading his legs wider so Shiro has better access. 

 

He eases gently around and Matt hisses. Shiro starts to nip along his ear, a small distraction to pushing his finger inside. His entire being is aware of only Matt and the way his chest rises and falls, or how his breath hitches and he pushes further inside. 

 

“Relax, I’ll take care of you.” He whispers into his ear and Matt shivers when Shiro’s breath tickles his skin. He moves lower, kissing down Matt’s neck and sucking roughly as he inserts a second finger. 

 

Matt arches off the bed and Shiro continues to praise him with nips and sucks to his skin. By the time he’s inserted a third finger, Matt is writhing and begging and has a trail of hickies bruising down his chest. 

 

“Shiro, please.” Matt begs, opening his eyes and waiting eagerly for him. 

 

Shiro fumbles with the bottle and it slips from his hand to the floor. He cringes and bends over to pick it up. Of fucking course it happens to be this exact moment he gets butterfingers. When he rights himself, Matt is looking at him with a frustrated hunger in his eyes and Shiro bites his lip. 

 

“Let me do it.” Matt demands and at this point if Matt asked him to dress in drag and do the hula, he wouldn’t say no. He hands over the bottle and closes his eyes, because watching Matt lube his hand is too much. 

 

Except it’s not the cold shock of lube around his cock, it’s Matt’s warm mouth. His eyes pop open, and Matt is watching him  _ watch him _ suck him off. It’s easily the hottest thing Shiro has ever witnessed. Matt’s tongue swirls on the underside of his dick and Shiro is gripping the sheet tight enough to hear his blunt nails scratch roughly along the fabric. Matt pops off smugly, wiping the spit off his chin with the back of his hand and Shiro whimpers at the loss of heat. Actually  _ whimpers _ . 

 

If he wasn’t so turned on from his sex muddled brain, he’d be embarrassed. 

 

Matt moves around him easily, the bed squeaking under their combined weight. He roughly pushes Shiro around, until he’s lying on his back, exactly where Matt wants him. He straddles Shiro, sitting easily on his thighs as his eyes roam over Shiro like he’s a piece of art in a museum. Shiro’s breathe hitches under his gaze. 

 

Matt finds the condom Shiro left on the bed easily enough, and slides it on Shiro before lubing him. It’s enough that Shiro hisses and if Matt wasn’t sitting on his thighs, he’d be thrusting into his hand, just wanting more and more. It’s too much and not enough all at once. Finally, Matt moves up Shiro’s legs. Reaching behind to line Shiro just right, and when Matt slides down onto him, he feels his entire body scream in euphoric relief. 

 

It takes every ounce of effort he has to not thrust right up into Matt. In fact, his hands on Matt’s waist grip tight enough, not only for Matt’s benefit, but for his own in keeping Matt in place. 

 

“God Shiro.” Matt’s thrown back his head, both hands braced on Shiro’s chest, his cock leaking just under his belly button. It’s easily the most beautiful thing Shiro has ever seen but if Matt doesn’t start moving soon, Shiro is going to lose his mind. 

 

“Matt?” He asks. For what, he’s not sure. His mind is muddled by how  _ tight _ and warm Matt is. How perfectly he fits inside of him. His heart threatens to beat out of his chest and he’s using every ounce of will power to wait for Matt’s signal that he's ready. 

 

“Yeah, okay.”

 

It’s slow thrusting at first, Matt moving carefully above him and Shiro meeting him half way. The solid heat of Matt makes his toes curl. Matt feels like the only thing Shiro wants to ever know again. It’s overwhelming, and despite his overly Matt obsessed mind, he can’t help but find that if someone had told him he’d be six inches deep into Matt by nine o’clock, he’d have laughed in their face. 

 

Matt moves faster with each piston of Shiro’s hips, his moans filling his small bedroom with the sounds that echo of the walls. Shiro forces himself to keep his eyes open, despite wanting to lose himself to the pleasure that’s buzzing under his skin in every direction. There is another flash of lightning and his eyes catch Matt’s in the dark light, pupils blown and his intense stare steals the breath from his lungs. In the back of his mind he knows it’s only Matt and it will only ever be Matt. Nothing else,  _ no one else _ , will ever be good enough to take his place. 

 

If he could bottle this moment, just encapsulate time, this would be what he’d want to have forever. 

 

“Shiro, it’s—I’m close.” Matt pants as he pushes down hard, moving more erratically as he chases his release. 

 

“Yeah.” 

 

Shiro’s isn’t ready to let go of Matt yet, so he takes Matt into his hand, and squeezes just under the head. Halting his thrusts and sitting up to lick at Matt’s sweat slick neck. It’s salty, but Shiro can’t get enough. Matt whines, head braced on Shiro’s shoulder and he shivers. 

 

“Noo, Shiro why…” Matt cries, trying his best to get Shiro to give him what he wants, what they both want; That sweet, year long bubble of sexual tension to finally pop. 

 

Shiro holds onto him firmly, using every trick he’s ever learned to flip them both before he braces his hands under Matt’s knees and pushes back into Matt. The new angle is a success and Shiro hits the places that raise Matt’s voice even higher. 

 

Shiro leans lower, moving his hands to the side of Matt’s head and reaching down for a sloppy kiss. It’s more open mouthed rubbing than kissing but it gets Shiro deeper and Shiro drinks Matt’s moans as they spill from his lips. 

 

His hand grips Matt’s hair and Shiro clenches his fist, a handful tight between his fingers. Matt hisses in pain but Shiro can’t help it. He needs something to keep him grounded. Matt is taking him places Shiro never knew existed, like a moth to a flame, and he’s about to get burned. 

 

“Matt, I’m close.” He says between ragged breaths and Matt nods. He rests his head heavily on Matt, and Matt takes the opportunity to bite down on the space between Shiro’s neck and shoulder as Matt spills his hot release between them. The pain is enough for Shiro to follow his own pleasure burst and he pushes hard one last time, until he sees stars. 

 

There is a moment, where Shiro raises his head and looks at Matt. He has a sudden need to touch Matt’s lips with his own in a kiss not fueled by his libido but with what he’s kept buried in his heart for so long. But Matt blinks and turns his head and Shiro isn’t sure what to make of that. 

 

Shiro moves off of him and Matt silently gets up and goes into the bathroom without a word. He looks away from his retreating form and it feels like a rock has settled into his gut. The silence is terrifying even with the restless patter of rain outside. 

 

While Matt is away, Shiro cleans himself up with his discarded shirt as he sits alone with his thoughts. They are everywhere and nowhere at once. Matt seemed to enjoy what happened as much as Shiro did. Or so he thought. What if Matt was having second thoughts and he has regrets? The thought alone clenches at his heart. He wishes now he had listened to reason when doubt reared its ugly head and tried to warn him about moving too fast. 

 

The bathroom door opens and before Matt can say he made a mistake, that he’s going back to his room, Shiro asks in a desperate voice, “Stay?”

 

Matt wavers on his feet before he crawls back into bed with him and Shiro spoons him from behind, holding him tight to his body. If this is all Matt will allow him to have, he’s going to savor it. He’s going to memorize his shape, his scent, how it feels to fit so perfectly against Matt in the way it’s like he’s found the yin to his yang. 

 

He holds on for dear life. 

 

A few hours later, Shiro’s lying on his back, arm thrown over his eyes. His other arm is prickling under Matt’s body weight and he can’t sleep for shit. His brain can’t stop,  _ won’t  _ stop, worrying about regrets and mistakes. Was sleeping with Matt a mistake? Shiro didn’t  _ want _ to think so. He’s wanted to be close to Matt for so long, in every way possible, but now that they’ve taken that plunge, there is no turning back. Shiro worries he may have ruined everything in his haste to have Matt for his own selfish desires as soon as the opportunity presented itself. 

 

A loud frustrated groan off to his side signals that Matt is still awake too, and he flops over. 

 

“Can’t sleep either?” Shiro asks and each small movement Matt makes sends new pinpricks through his arm. He’s too much of a coward to ask Matt to move. 

 

“No,” Matt says gently, as if he’s surprised Shiro was still awake, “It’s been a while since…” He says without finishing, but Shiro gets it. He hasn’t had sex in a while either, “I’m still a little sore.” Matt admits. 

 

Shiro peeks his head up, worried that not only did he possibly ruin their friendship, he hurt Matt in the process. 

 

“Can I draw you a bath?” He asks, silently yet gently tugging on his arm. Matt moves off of it when he realizes what Shiro wants and slowly turns to face him. 

 

“Do you—do you regret it?” He asks, not meeting Shiro’s eye. Outside, the rain has stopped and the only sound between their soft breaths is the soft drops of the rain falling off the window ledge. 

 

Shiro doesn’t  _ want  _ regrets. He wants what Matt wants. A secret, scared part of him wants Matt to not regret what happened. To know they can continue their friendship with maybe a side of those things couples do. Except he’s not sure if he’s allowed even that. 

 

“Do you?” He counters, ready to decide how he feels after he knows where Matt stands. 

 

Matt’s picking at the blanket, and it’s quiet so long Shiro doesn’t think he’s going to answer.

 

“A bath would be great.” He eventually says and it hurts like a punch in the gut. Shiro would have rather suffered in the silence. 

 

“Okay.” He says as he gets up. He slides clean boxers on, because maybe walking across his room naked is too intimate for the situation. When he looks up, Matt is staring silently at him. Shiro wants so desperately for that look in his eyes to mean something, but all he sees is silent despair and when he can’t take it anymore, he walks into the bathroom to ready the tub. 

 

He moves as if on autopilot, running the water and does his best to make bubbles with his shampoo. It doesn’t bubble and fill the tub like he wanted it to, instead it just sorta foams thinly on the surface of the water turning it a milky white. It’s depressing, kinda like how he feels. 

 

Once the water is warm enough, Shiro walks back out to tell Matt. He sitting on the bed, hugging his knees and Shiro can’t look at him for long, his eyes flicking to the floor. His hand clenches at his side but he can do this. He  _ has _ to do this. 

 

He doesn’t want Matt to see how his rejection has hurt him, so he’ll pretend that nothing has changed. It will be hard, but Shiro isn’t about to lose Matt just because they had sex, he  _ refuses _ . If Matt doesn’t return his feelings, that’s okay, he’ll live. He will move on cherishing the moment they had together and will do everything he can to keep their friendship from slipping through his fingers. 

 

“Want me to carry you, Princess?” He asks in a tone that Matt knows is in jest. It’s  _ familiar. _ It’s enough to let Matt know where he stands. That’s it’s  _ okay _ even if inside he’d rather be whispering sweet nothings to him. 

 

Matt looks up as if startled, but laughs. It’s fake, and they both know it. But it’s part of the game they’re both now playing. He shakes his head, using Shiro’s sheet to wrap around himself like a blanket and walks by. 

 

“Thanks Shiro.” He says and all Shiro can do is shut the door behind him. 

 

He flops on his bed afterward, the springs creaking angrily under his sudden weight and he buries his face into the mattress. Once he’s suffocated himself to the point his chest hurts, he moves and lays so his back faces the bathroom door. He watches his alarm clock tick by with red numbers like ominous eyes in the dark. 

 

Thirty minutes later the door opens and as soon as he hears the knob turn he closes his eyes, pretending to be asleep. He’s accepted his fate, but now he’s tired and his mind and heart are exhausted. He just can’t deal with the awkward after talk so he saves them both the trouble by faking. 

 

It breaks his heart when Matt whispers behind him a soft  _ Shiro? _

 

He doesn’t move, doesn’t breathe. He wants desperately for Matt to crawl into bed behind him, wrap his arms around him and tell him it’s okay. 

 

What happens instead is Matt walks out of his room, pausing at the door and whispers a  _ Thank you  _ that doesn’t sound thankful at all and shuts the door. 

 

He shivers as a chill runs down his spine. 

 

_ What have I done? _

  
  


  
  
  



End file.
